Theory
by AlternativePunk
Summary: A funny parody of what should have happened the day Bella figured out exactly what Edward Cullen was... “O-OH MY GOD! I figured it out! SO THIS MEANS THAT YOU…THAT YOU ARE…” --R&R-- Hope this makes you LOL...literally!--


**A/N: I cried because I was laughing way too hard for my own good. This is a pointless oneshot that I came up with. It's not going to be over 1,000 words probably (and that has NEVER happened to me). **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the premise of this scene, nor do I own Twilight. **

**So yeah. This is a parody of when Bella told Edward what she thought he was. The one in the car. Yeah, that one. YAY. **

**But parodies are awesome, amirite? **

**I love writing with humor—in fact, I thrive in it. I can't bear to write a sappy story—which I hope people have noticed. I love making people laugh, and I hope this makes you laugh.

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Theory

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"No, Bella, you must eat something." Edward replied, inching towards her.

"I'm not that hungry, Edward." She reasoned, but her stomach seemed to disagree. It gurgled embarrassingly, and she blushed a deep scarlet.

"I suppose that settles it then," He chuckled, his musical laugh sending a jolt up her spine, "You're stomach seems to agree with me. What would you like?"

The waitress was waiting impatiently._ Teenagers….pfft. _She thought to herself. _Although, I wouldn't mind getting me some of that delicious excuse of a man. _She winked at Edward, trying to bat her eyelashes as seductively as she could, to no avail. Edward was watching Bella too intently to notice.

"Mushroom ravioli?" Bella squeaked as her eyes landed on the first thing on the menu. She was here, with _the_ Edward Cullen, and she had just squeaked. If that wasn't monumentally embarrassing, what was?

He nodded approvingly, "Mushroom ravioli it is then." He smiled at the waitress, his perfect smile momentarily sending her mind to a short vacation to Hawaii. "And a coke."

"What about you?" Bella asked, eyeing him carefully.

"Two cokes, then." He amended. "And please bring bread to the table?"

The waitress, who had recovered from the sudden outburst—for lack of a better word—smiled widely and took the menus from their hands. She made sure to graze her fingertips across the Edward's hand, which went wildly unnoticed by said boy. But she paid no heed – he was merely _distracted_.

And distracted he was. He was staring at Bella, his eyes holding an intensity that almost shattered her very dignity. How was it possible for her to hold her own, when a beautiful excuse for a man was sitting right in front of her?

"What are you thinking about?" Edward whispered, the wind carrying his voice to her ears.

"How ridiculous the situation I find myself in is," she answered honestly.

"And why is that?" He asked, his eyes barely concealing his amusement—and not to mention his curiosity.

"Just moments ago I was _almost_ attacked." She explained, "And now, I'm dining in a restaurant that I would never be able to afford on my own, with the same boy who told me that it would be better that we weren't friends."

He smirked, "Are you still thinking about what I said?"

She looked at him, confusion obvious on her expression.

"About us not being friends, that is." He clarified, closing his eyes briefly, before examining her face carefully. She was impossible to read. It was enticing—albeit _frustrating_—and he yearned to be able to know what she was thinking.

"I guess so," She answered after a few seconds of silence, "It's not everyday someone you _barely_ know comes up to you, and tells you—not to mention _bluntly_—that he refuses to even consider being your friend."

"I understand where you're coming from," He replied, painfully, "But you must understand that it _is _better that way."

"Then why?" She began, "Why are we here? Why has it come to this?" She waved her hand vaguely in front of her face, as if to highlight their complicated relationship.

"Do you want the truth?"

"And nothing else." She said, firmly. He might be a drug to her; she might be intoxicated by his presence. Hell, she might be in over her head. But the one thing that Isabella Swan wasn't…was stupid.

"You ask a lot," He smiled.

"And I expect an answer in return." She said flatly. How she managed to keep a straight face, and that little shred of dignity she had left was beyond her.

"You never cease to amaze me Bella," He said honestly, his voice holding unconcealed awe. "I'll tell you the truth. I can't seem to stay away from you. So, I've decided. I'm not."

"Pardon?"

"I've given up trying to take the easy way out—avoiding you altogether—and have decided to be a little selfish." He leaned towards her, his glorious face only a few inches from hers.

"What do you mean?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but the waitress came back with two glasses of coke and the mushroom ravioli. The basket of bread was placed precariously on her forearm. She set them down, shoving the entrée hastily towards Bella.

The waitress left, smiling grandly. But she didn't go far. She had heard what they were talking about—she wasn't deaf. And it was _good_. They were things worthy of a cheesy romance novel. It was a soap opera in the making.

_No one's in your section except them,_ she reasoned. She watched them like a hawk. _The manager would love that you care this much about your customers – yes, I smell a raise_. She smiled triumphantly, chewing on the rubber of her pencil. It was nasty habit, but it was a reflex. There wasn't popcorn in sight, so it would have to do. She leaned in the booth quietly, watching as the young teenagers spoke quietly with each other. _I love my job_.

Bella stabbed a section of the mushroom ravioli, and chewed on it loudly. When she realized how rude she was being, she smiled sheepishly—but made sure not to show her teeth. God knows what could be caught in between them.

"So what were you about to say?" Bella asked hesitantly.

"I'm tired of staying away from you, Bella." He smiled, his words genuine.

She nearly spit out the wad of over baked mushrooms in her mouth. He chuckled at her expression.

Bella was embarrassed, and that was to be expected. She did not know what to say to his bold statement. She munched on her food carefully, mulling over his words. She took a sip of her coke, but it hissed noisily. She had finished it—was she really that thirsty?

Edward pushed his coke towards her, "I'm not thirsty. You can have mine." He offered.

"No, I wouldn't want to—"

"Bella," He sighed, "Please?"

How could you say know to him? It was impossible.

She gulped down the coke quickly, and Edward laughed in response. She decided not to speak. She ate the dish in front of her as quickly as she could. She placed the fork and spoon down once she was done. Bella chugged down the rest of her coke, dabbing her lips with her napkin. She smiled sheepishly at Edward. His answering smile was dazzling.

He motioned for the waitress—who had been wildly disappointed at the lack of drama in their conversation (although she would admit that his line of being tired of staying away from her was worthy of an Oscar for 'best original screenplay')—and she quickly approached their table.

"May we please have the bill?"

She whipped the leather case out of her deep pockets, and handed it to Edward. He had a bill already in his hands. He slipped it in the case, and returned it. "Keep the change,"

"Thank you," She smiled, returning to her hiding place. She opened the case quickly. Their total had been fifty dollars even. He had given her a hundred dollars. _I love my job_, she chanted again and again. Who in their right mind gave a fifty dollar tip? That wasn't 10%, hell it was 100%!

"Shall we?" Edward asked, motioning Bella to follow him out.

Once they left the restaurant, the cool wind assaulted her. He draped his leather jacket on her immediately. She smiled apologetically in response, and he merely nodded.

Bella knew something was wrong. There was a rush that started at her legs and went all the way up to her neck. God, why did she drink so much coke? Sugar and she did not mix. When she was on a sugar high, she tended to blurt out things and jump to conclusions. _That_ was the only time that Isabella Swan was stupid.

They reached his Volvo in a matter of seconds.

He noticed the confused look on Bella's face. No, confused wasn't the right word. It wasn't that she was confused per se, she was thinking about something. Rather fiercely at that. He leaned against his Volvo, savoring the blush on her cheeks when she noticed him staring.

"Why is your face scrunched up as if you are thinking about something?" He asked amusedly.

She scratched her chin out of reflex. She mumbled something to herself.

"Pardon?" Edward asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm trying to figure out _what_ you are," She whispered.

He froze. "Oh really?" He replied, calmly. But all he could think was, "OH CRAP. Remember, breathe in…breathe out…"

"Yeah," She muttered, the sugar rush breaking up the limited supply of gray cells in her skull. Damn those stupid cokes!

"What have you come up with so far?"

Her sugar infested brain answered for her, "Only one conclusion."

"I see," He gritted out, "And what would that be?"

"I mean, you're pale." Sugar spiked up a notch.

"Yes."

"Your skin is cold." Another rush.

"Yes."

"You have golden-reddish eyes." She continued, trying to ignore the building of sugar in her system.

"Yes."

"You don't like human food," Yet another rush reached her brain.

"Yes." He winced. She was on to him…

She counted on her fingers. Those were _four things_.

"You spent most of your life in Alaska," The sugar was rotting her mind. She could barely think.

"Yes." His mind raced. She knew. Why was she so god damn intuitive?

Her eyes widened, and her hands flew to her cheeks. She jumped, the sugar rush reaching a deafening level. She could barely hear her voice above the superiority of it, "O-OH MY GOD! I figured it out! SO THIS MEANS THAT YOU…THAT YOU ARE…"

"Er…" He mumbled. She knew his secret! This wasn't happening! He'd have to go to Carlisle, god he was going to have to move cities! He would become a hermit, living off and leaching off people like Alice! Holy Dracula what was he going to—

"A penguin?!"

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**A/N: HAHAHAH, I don't know if you found that funny…and I know this is kinda sad, but I thought it was funny. Penguin get it? GET IT?! **

**Oh oh, it's over 1000 words. I never seem to be able to write a little…but I guess that works out for you?**

**Review please! I'd love to hear your thoughts. I have tons of impulse oneshots, but I'm always afraid to post them, because I do not know if you guys will like my humor. Review review reviewwwwww! **

**-AltPunk**

**Number of Pages: 5**

**Number of Words: 1,883**

**Completed: Yes**

**Edited: No**


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